


Zone of Transition

by Imrryr



Category: Legend of the Seeker (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, One Shot, Surfing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 06:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imrryr/pseuds/Imrryr
Summary: While enjoying a day at the beach, Kahlan tries something wild: actually talking to a girl she’s interested in.





	Zone of Transition

**Author's Note:**

> plz enjoy this incredibly silly thing.

Berdine didn’t even bother to look up from her phone.  “You’re killing me here, Kahlan.  Just _talk_ to her already.”

Kahlan hastily turned her attention back to the book lying propped on her bare knees and struggled to find where she’d left off.   Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if this was the right chapter.  As she flipped backwards through the pages in increasing desperation, her cheeks burned with the knowledge she was being stared at.  “I don’t know what you’re talking abo- _hey!_ ” 

With catlike speed, the book was yanked out of her hand.  Berdine dangled it just out of reach for a long moment, but Kahlan had too much dignity to bite.  “Fine,” she said, not intimidated by her friend’s icy glare in the slightest, “Tell me what happens in this chapter.”

Kahlan’s answer was a childish pout and arms wrapped around her knees.  She couldn’t remember.  It probably didn’t have anything to do with beautiful women on surfboards though, not unless there was a scene where Edmond Dantes surfs his way to Monte Cristo, and, uh, changes gender while he’s at it.

Rather unlikely to say the least, but then there had always been something vaguely unsatisfying about nineteenth century literature.

At least Berdine was kind enough to slip a scrap of paper between the pages before tossing the book on her own towel, even further out of Kahlan’s reach.  “You’re a grown woman, you’re allowed to talk to pretty girls.  You know that, right?”

Kahlan remained hunched on her blanket.  Why was talking so crucial these days anyway?  Professional hermiting had been a perfectly valid career choice a mere thousand years ago.  A nice dark cave by the seashore, all the barnacles and sea urchins you could eat, and a stick to chase away gawkers.  She’d _own_ that lifestyle.

But _no_ , in the twenty-first century you had to do interviews, you needed people skills, you had to sell yourself.

God.  It all just… _sucked_.

But, hey, that was one way to make her forget about attractive women: make her think about her unemployed status - not to mention her draining 401k, her suffering credit score, her–

Sigh.  Kahlan shook her head.  Whatever.

Anyway, mood successfully ruined.  Nice.

Her back was being patted as Kahlan let her hair fall over her face.  No confidence, that was her problem.  So much time had passed since she’d felt like herself it was hard to remember who that even was - what that long-gone person who’d once inhabited her body even sounded like.  She tried to remind herself that everyone got laid-off sooner or later, and lots of people had trouble finding suitable work in their field afterwards.

Unfortunately, when you kept saying that sort of thing to yourself day after day, month after month… well, it began to sound like an excuse.

And now that bland helpless feeling was permeating the rest of her life too.

Unconsciously, her toes kneaded the blanket and the warm sand beneath.  She took a few deep, soothing breaths.  The waves continued to crash against the glittering shore, the gulls cried, the palm fronds shook in the breeze.  Life went on, and nature remained utterly oblivious to her internal crises.   There was something oddly comforting about that.

Honestly, she was glad to escape to Hawaii.  At least now she could be utterly miserable in pleasant weather.

Unfortunately, her new home only made it harder to get work.  All her references, all those people who knew other people, they were now five-thousand miles and six time zones away.

God.  If only she could’ve left her anxieties back there too.

And in the distance, riding alone on a long, curling wave, in the bluest water she’d ever seen in her life, was a mysterious woman who was everything Kahlan wasn’t.

It had been an hour since she’d showed up on the far end of the beach, dressed in loose black shorts and one of those stretchy shirts – also black, with a thin red stripe on either side.  She stood there for quite a while in the early morning sun, colorful surfboard at her side, oblivious to the two women sitting under the low hanging branches by the beach’s edge.  Wisps of blonde hair freed from her messy ponytail streamed in the stiff breeze as she regarded the crashing waves.

And then, to Kahlan’s great admiration and vague terror, the woman began walking out there as if those oncoming waves weren’t six feet high easy.

Berdine, of course, missed nothing, and had teased Kahlan about it at the time.

So, to maintain some semblance of dignity, Kahlan returned to her book, definitely not propping it up on her knees just to make it easier to secretly watch the girl as she swam out to sea on her board

Oh no, absolutely not.

Kahlan let out another breath.  Would’ve been nice if she could’ve left her libido back in Washington too.

She had no idea what to make of that.

The English major in her could write an essay on what this all represented, how Kahlan wished she could be free like her.  How she wished things were simpler.  Ride the wave to the end, slip back into the sea, paddle back out, and get back up again.  No judgements, no expectations…

She knew how this trip would end though.  Surfer-girl would head home, Kahlan wouldn’t speak to her, and in less than two weeks she’d be back on Berdine’s couch, sullenly scouring job postings while Mozart’s _Lacrimosa_ played endlessly in the background until the heat death of the universe.

She’d be like the soldier in that old Chekov story, without even an accidental kiss to show for it at the end of it all.

All Kahlan’s fixation on hot Surfer-girl really represented was that it had been over a year since she'd last spoken to someone she was interested in.

Or, as her best friend Berdine would’ve less delicately put it, it symbolized an overpowering need to get laid.

Berdine rested her shoulder against Kahlan's, smiling to herself.  It wasn’t long before the woman was back up again, passing up smaller waves until a large one rolled by.  It was impossible to really see from this distance, but Kahlan could imagine a hint of a smile on the woman’s lips.  If Kahlan could ride the ocean's waves like that, she’d be smiling too, she was sure.

Cutting through the water like she’d been doing it all her life, like she actually lived out there, free and unburdened.

It managed to be simultaneously inspiring and depressing.

Kahlan found her shoulder being rubbed again.   “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The _worst_?  “Well,” she cringed, a thousand possibilities came to mind so quickly that they jammed the entrance to her brain on their way in, hands all reaching for her like a horde of crazed zombies.  The woman could laugh in her face, she could be completely heterosexual, she could be a _jerk_ -

Or, worst of all, she could just walk right by Kahlan like she wasn’t even there.

Seeing her expression shift, Berdine clearly regretted asking the question.  “ _Kahlan_.”

“She might not even be… you know… _interested_.”  Interested in Kahlan, or interested in women in general.  Either was likely enough.  Besides, her love life hadn’t exactly been stellar thus far.  Her college boyfriend had left her to join the freaking Peace Corps of all things.  Noble and all, but what did it say about you when the person you’d been dating for three years called time on your relationship to venture halfway across the planet?

Ten years on and it still kind of rubbed her the wrong way, even if they were still friends, and even if she was more than a little proud of the guy.

“ _Kahlan_.  Point one: anyone who isn’t interested in you is blind.”

She huffed.

“And point two,” Berdine gestured out to sea, “You see her board?”

Admittedly, Kahlan hadn’t been looking at the surfboard itself.  She tried to fixate on it, but the woman riding it so skillfully was just so… um, _talented_ , and totally not anything else whatsoever - “Um, yes?”

“See the three stripes running down it?”

Kind of.  “Uh huh?”

“Purple, blue, and pink.  What do those colors suggest to you?”

She shook her head.  “She’s fond of analogous colors?”

Berdine sighed prodigiously.  “She’s _bisexual_ , Kahlan.  I guarantee it.”

Oh.  She blushed.  “Is that really a thing people advertise?”

Berdine pinched the bridge of her nose.  “How long have we known each other?”

“Too long?” Kahlan offered, laughing when she was shoved.

Fine.   Fashion-wise, Berdine took looking gay and made it into an art.   Sometimes it seemed like there were rainbows on every single thing she owned, and her closet was filled with far more flannel shirts than made any kind of sense for someone to own when they lived in a place as perpetually warm as Hawaii.

“Look, if you don’t speak to her when she gets out of the water, I’m gonna do it.”

Kahlan didn’t bother to meet her gaze.  “Please.  Raina would kill you.”

“Raina’s not here.  She won’t even know about it.”

She grunted.  That threat was so empty, even the most reclusive of hermits would’ve laughed at it.  Despite both being a year younger than Kahlan, Berdine and Raina were like an old married couple.  They finished each other’s sentences, they knew what the other was thinking, they worked perfectly in synch.  It was enough to make any single girl jealous.

And Kahlan had missed them both terribly when they moved away to paradise.

Despite Berdine’s constant needling, it was great to be back with them again.  Seeing her friends together and still so happy all these years later was almost enough to convince a person that life actually wasn’t just a total pile of garbage crafted by a malevolent god with nothing better to do than make people miserable.

Almost.

She sighed.  “I’m not interested in a fling, Berdine.”

“But look at the way she rides that board,” she whispered, putting an arm around her back again and gesturing as Surfer-girl effortlessly rode another oncoming wave, catching it just as it broke, then turning sharply into the air before landing perfectly on the crashing white water.

Jesus.

Berdine squeezed her shoulder.  “It would be one hell of a fling, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re horrible,” she grumbled, blushing to the tips of her ears.    She was _not_ the kind of person to leer at random women – okay, apparently she was – but she was drawing the line at fantasizing, darn it.

“I’m fine right here,” she added, still hugging her knees.  The previous six months had been the job search from hell.  Rejection after rejection, day after day.  The last thing she needed was to have her luckless streak crossover into her love life as well.  Honestly, if she got rejected one more time she might just fall to her knees and cry.

Just assume it wouldn’t work out and bypass the embarrassment.  Hooray, problem solved.

To Kahlan’s horror, her friend rose with sudden determination.   

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

Berdine stretched.  “Testing the waters,” she grinned, but that grin faded immediately when her phone rang from the depths of her bag, and when she swallowed at the name on the screen, Kahlan had to put a hand over her lips to stifle her looming laughter.  Berdine took a steadying breath and composed herself.  “Hey, babe, how’s the hike?”

If nothing else, it was amusing to see the relief on Berdine’s face that no, Raina hadn’t been able to psychically know that her wife was about to fake cheat on her.

Like she would even dare.

With the persistent trade winds and the thunder of the waves, Kahlan couldn’t even begin to make out Raina’s side of the conversation.  She considered reaching for her book, but then, “Oh, Raina, quick question: should Kahlan talk to this hot surfer chick or not?”

“Ugh.”  She put her head in her hands, thankful that at least their little section of beach was empty and no one was going to overhear.

Berdine laughed at whatever Raina said in response.  “Hang on, hang on, you haven’t even seen what she looks like yet.   Give me a second and I’ll send you a picture.”

Still sulking, and maybe kind of still watching the woman as she paddled back out to sea, Kahlan listened as Berdine hummed to herself.  “Yep!  I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” Kahlan called out, looking up to see her friend marching straight in the woman’s direction, phone in hand.  “Berdine!”

“Chill, Kahlan.  I’m just going to get a picture of your future wife.”

Short of tackling her, there was little Kahlan could do to stop her, and knowing that to be futile – Berdine had a gym membership, after all - she watched helplessly as her friend stepped towards the surf.

Resigned to an evening of gentle ribbing from all concerned, Kahlan went back to hugging her legs.  Surfer-girl was on the waves again, riding her board like she’d done it a thousand times before.  Damn, that looked like fun.  How did she keep from falling off?

There was, as expected, no attempt to be subtle about it, but if the girl noticed Berdine photographing her, Kahlan couldn’t tell.  At least that was a relief.  She was hoping for a relaxing, drama-free vacation.

Returning, Berdine held up her phone with evident amusement, plopping down next to her so Kahlan could see as she swiped through a set of very well framed shots of Surfer-girl twisting on her board, skin glistening in the spray.  God, she was even more beautiful up close.

And she _was_ smiling.

Berdine poked her shoulder.  “You’re being _selfish_ , Kahlan.”

“Huh?” she blinked in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re hot.  You like girls...”  Berdine went on, despite the growing exasperation written on her friend's face, “And right now there are _millions_ of available women out there who could be lucky enough to receive some small amount attention from you, yet here you are currently talking to exactly zero percent of them.  Have some mercy on the human race, Kahlan.  Haven’t the women of the world suffered enough?”

She cradled her head.   “This is the worst argument I’ve ever heard.”

Berdine tilted her phone away, texting Raina, Kahlan was sure.  Then there was a laugh.

“What?” Kahlan groaned, refusing to look.

“Raina agrees with me.”

“Hmph.”  Wow.  Berdine and Raina agreed with each other.  What a shock.  Someone notify the press.

“She says I should get her number for you, since you’re too chicken.”  The phone clicked.  “I’ll just need to show her a picture of you.”

Kahlan dove at her just as another photo was taken.   “Don’t you dare.”

Berdine quickly sprang out of the way as Kahlan ineffectually tried to pry the phone out of her hands.  Unfortunately, Berdine actually used her gym membership often, so it wasn’t a fair fight.

Before long, she found herself pinned to the ground, but they were both laughing.  It was amazing how easily Berdine could make Kahlan feel like a teenager again.  “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, fine.  Let me up.”

Berdine did so.  As she stood and helped brush the sand off Kahlan’s shirt, her expression suddenly brightened.  “Ooh, check it out,” she said, “I think she’s coming in.”

Suddenly dumbstruck in newfound terror, Kahlan received a shove in the small of her back.  “This is your chance.”  She dug her feet in the sand, but since Berdine was a lot stronger than her it just meant she stumbled forward like a dork.  “Do it and I promise I won’t force you to talk to another human being for the rest of your life.”

Finally, some positive reinforcement, even if it was a bald-faced lie.  “What am I even supposed to say?” Kahlan hissed.

Berdine tapped her bottom lip in thought.  Unfortunately, the longer she thought, the more likely her answer was not going to be helpful.  An evil smile crossed her lips and Kahlan held up a hand to silence her.

“Forget I asked.”

“ _Kahlan_ ,” she whined, adding an exaggerated pout for good measure.

She turned, taking a deep breath.  It was just like a band-aid, right?  Pull it off quickly and the pain would be over.  “It’s fine.  _I’m_ fine.  I can do this.”

This declaration was not followed by any sort of actual movement.

Surfer-girl was halfway to shore already.  Unfortunately, those photos Berdine had taken remained burned into the back of Kahlan’s mind.  She’d flirted with pretty girls before, sure, but they’d always been at least a little like her – studious, quiet, not particularly athletic.  What exactly was she supposed to say to a surfer?  ‘ _Way to go?’_ or maybe, _‘Hey, I really like how you managed to not drown out there.  Nice work._ ’

She knew practically nothing about surfing.

But the girl was on her feet now, hauling her board to dry land and wiping the damp off her brow as the sun beat down on her.

Shit.

Also, _shit_.  She was beautiful.

Just as she was thinking about eventually actually taking a step forward – maybe - Berdine cleared her throat. 

“I’m doing it,” Kahlan grumbled.

“Actually, I was thinking you might want to lose the shirt first.”

Kahlan looked down at herself.  She’d borrowed this shirt to wear over her bikini - it was a compromise and the only way she’d agree to actually wear a bikini in public.  Faded pink text proclaimed the timeless message: ‘Linguists do it orally.’  Yes.  Let’s _not_ wear this.  “Um…”

Berdine sighed as if to say, ‘ _Kahlan, please_.’

 _Fine_.  With a decisiveness born more of exasperation than determination, Kahlan shucked her shirt – and, for good measure, tossed it at her annoying friend.

Said annoying friend caught it easily.  “Perfect.”

It’s not that Kahlan thought she looked _bad_.  It was just… well, she failed to understand how being more than ninety-five-percent naked was going to help her talk to random beautiful women.  In no way did this compute.

She was being shoved again.

With a prodigious sigh, Kahlan stepped out from under the shade of the trees and out onto the warm tropical sand with all the enthusiasm of the condemned being led to the execution block.

…

She stood at the surf’s edge, warm waves tickling her bare feet before rushing back out to sea.  Kahlan estimated she had roughly thirty seconds to come up with something that would endear her to Surfer-girl.  Unfortunately, she spent nearly all of them watching her toes.  Looking up was proving problematic.  The way the sea-water had streamed down the woman’s suit as she finally stepped out of the surf, the way she now shook her long, tangled blonde hair, the way her chest rose and fell with the exertion, even the way her muscles flexed as she reached down to untie the surfboard leash around her ankle.

And the less said about the thoughts that image brought to mind the better.

She swallowed.  And since Kahlan was the only other person in the immediate vicinity, it was a hundred-percent certainty that she looked like a dork, and also probably a perv.

She sighed as Surfer-girl lifted her board, a few streams of water still trailing around her tanned biceps as she held it to her side.  _God_.  And, yes, definitely a perv.

The woman finally took a vague notice of Kahlan standing there and slightly altered course so as not to walk straight into her.  “Hey,” she said absently, scratching her fingers through tangled hair with her free hand as she passed.

“Hey.”  Kahlan swallowed.  Damn.  She should’ve brought notes or something.  “Um…”  The girl slowed, surprised there was more.  “You looked good out there.”

She stopped, a smirk crossing her lips, like maybe this was an everyday occurrence for her: thirty-year-old women offering unsolicited compliments on her surfing ability.  If it wasn’t, it should’ve been.  She was really, really beautiful.  Like, throat-drying, stomach-clenching beautiful.   Like, she just stepped off the cover of that surfing magazine Kahlan picked up at the airport… for… erm… you know, _the articles_.

Oh, and she was also good at surfing and stuff.

“You were watching me?”

Dumbly, Kahlan nodded, quite sure she was blushing.  The only comfort here was living in the knowledge that if she ran into the brush right now, this woman would only forever remember her as some random weirdo.  There weren’t likely to run into each other at the store tomorrow or something.

Berdine would never let her live it down though.  She’d probably laugh about it constantly, morning, noon, and night, from now until the flight home, or until the day she died.  Whichever came last.

“You surf?”

Kahlan shook her head.  The very thought filled her with a sense of a foreboding.  The waves continued to thunder all along the shore.  “I grew up in Vermont, so…”

“Ah,” she laughed, and Kahlan’s stomach clenched, because while it was perfectly reasonable to be dumbfounded while standing in close proximity to a beautiful woman in a soaking wet, form-fitting shirt with salt water dripping from her still disheveled hair, it was something else entirely to see her smile so brightly while doing so – green eyes sparkling, white teeth glinting in the late morning sun.

She in no way expected Surfer-girl to look that beautiful up close.  And maybe it was actually a bird or something, but she might’ve heard a vaguely ‘squee’ish sound coming from the direction of Berdine.

Kahlan tried to ignore it.

“I’m,” she swallowed, “um, Kahlan, by the way.”  Five-thousand miles away, back at Cornell, her public speaking professor was likely feeling a cold shiver run up his back.

“Cara,” Surfer-girl replied.  And why Cara wasn’t put-off by Kahlan’s inability to string basic sentences together, she would never know.  “I teach people on the side sometimes, if you’re going to be in Maui for a while.”  For just a second there Cara’s eyes darted downwards, then back up a little more slowly, and there was that confident smirk again.  “I wouldn’t mind.”

Unconsciously, Kahlan stood a little straighter.  Maybe this bikini hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

Cara let the tail of her board hit the sand.  Another good sign.  Her muscles flexed when she scratched the back of her neck.  And, yeah, holy crap.  “You’re out here on vacation?”

“Kind of?”  She didn’t really want to give out her whole life story; it was complicated, boring, and kind of depressing.  “I have friends in Honolulu, so I’m staying with them while I look for work.”

Cara glanced around, conspiratorially.  Kahlan was probably not going to find steady employment out on this desolate beach.

“But, well, then my friends had a few weeks off scheduled already, so here I am.”  Honestly, they practically dragged Kahlan here.  She would’ve been perfectly fine continuing her search, as demoralizing as it was, back on Berdine’s couch.

But the change of scenery was nice.

And some of that change of scenery was very, very nice.

“Is that your friend over there?” she asked, nodding in Berdine’s direction.

Kahlan shut her eyes, refusing to even look.  Whatever Cara was seeing was probably embarrassing.

“I saw her taking shots of me while I was out there.”

Oh, god.  “I’ll make her destroy them.”  She’d have to wipe the pics off Raina’s phone now too.  Bribery would probably be required.  Ugh.

“Happens all the time.  And,” she drawled, “sometimes I don’t even mind,” she stared pointedly at Kahlan.  “It depends.”

Kahlan swallowed.  “Depends on what?”

Again, a sweep of her body, accompanied by a grin and flip of damp blonde hair in the warm breeze.   “Depends on who’s taking the pictures.  And why.”

There was a question in Cara’s eyes, and for one terrifying second, Kahlan thought she’d misjudged everything.  “Berdine, my, um, _friend_ ,” she blurted out.  “She wanted to show her wife what you looked like.”

Cara’s eyes went wide, and wow, was this not going well.  Thank god no one was close enough to hear all this.

“She likes to embarrass me,” Kahlan quickly added.

Whatever fear had gripped Cara’s mind – likely, the prospect that Kahlan was here as an intermediary to proposition Cara for a three-way with her two married friends – vanished.  “Embarrass you?” she repeated, eyes glinting.

Kahlan hung her head.  “Well, like I said, I was watching you.”

This information was not met with that same expression of terror.  Cara smiled, evidently amused.

It was perhaps time to make things a little more obvious.  “And I, uh, like your board.”

Cara didn’t react to that, only continued to smile.  Kahlan would really hate to play poker against her.  “My offer still stands.  I could teach you.  Free of charge?”

Wow.  Definitely not a rejection, that.

There was no question about asking Berdine if that was alright.  At this point, she’d probably hire a limo and a private jet if she’d thought it would give Kahlan’s love-life a boost.

Kahlan nodded but looked out on the breaking waves with newfound trepidation.

Cara followed her gaze.  “We wouldn’t go nearly that far out.  It usually takes people a while just to learn how to stay up.”  She nodded towards a rusted pickup-truck parked not too far from Berdine’s rental car.  “Come on.  Let me get a drink, then we can get started.”

Nodding, Kahlan followed her down the beach and up the sandy hill, a brief glimpse of Berdine miming a cheer in the distance was more than enough to remind her to never look in that direction ever again.  “Um, I didn’t bring a suit or anything like that.”

Green eyes looked her up and down as they walked.  “I noticed.  You won’t need one, the water’s not cold.  I just prefer the shirt…”

So did Kahlan.  Damp as it was, it hugged Cara’s form quite nicely.  Very, um, _hydrodynamic_.

“Besides, the very first lesson is always on dry land.”  Cara hefted her board, leaning it against the side of the truck.  “Gotta learn how to ride the board first.”

“Ride the board first,” Kahlan repeated, watching Cara’s butt as she reached into the cab.  “ _Right_.”

Cara popped back out, holding a phone.  Kahlan tried to pretend she’d been admiring the palm trees, but it wasn’t necessary; Cara took one look at the screen and swore.  “Damn, I'm sorry.   Work calls.  I gotta be at the station asap.”

Kahlan didn’t get a chance to ask what Cara did for a living.  _The station_.  Was she a firefighter?  An EMT?  Brief flashes of Cara in various uniforms popped into her head.  Also not helping.

Just as quickly as her self-confidence had appeared, it vanished in a cloud of salty sea-spray.  It was hard to be completely sure if she was being blown off or not.

“Here,” Cara added, bending over the front seat again and pulling out a piece of scrap paper from the glove-compartment, she scrawled something down on it.

Ten numbers.  Despite herself, Kahlan beamed.  This was decidedly not a rejection.

“If you’re interested –“ Cara began, letting the rest go unsaid.

She allowed her own eyes to wander.  Confidence she hadn’t felt in years welled up within her.  “I am.”

Cara seemed to appreciate confidence because her smile grew.  How Kahlan had made it this far, she’d never know.  It must’ve been the bikini.  God bless you, Berdine.  “Cool.  And don’t worry about the waves.  There are waves on the other side of the island that aren't so heavy.”

Thank god for that.  “So, I won’t drown?”

She laughed, and Kahlan felt like the most charming woman in the universe.  “Nah.”  And there was another brief glance at Kahlan’s body.  “Besides, I’m certified in CPR.”

 _Oh, excellent_ , she thought, eyes lingering with even less subtlety than Cara’s had.  Almost drowning suddenly didn’t sound so bad.

When Cara looked to grab her board and lift it onto the bed, Kahlan volunteered to help.  And if nothing else, she succeeded in the simple task of securing the board to the mount, so maybe the terrifying prospect of learning to surf merely as a means to talk to a beautiful woman wouldn’t pan out so poorly after all.

Another wave crashed.  Kahlan tried to ignore it.  If she really went through with this, it'd easily be most insane thing she'd ever done for a pretty face.  This was high-school material, not the behavior of someone in their thirties.

As oblivious to Kahlan's internal crises as the rest of her surroundings, Cara unceremoniously shucked her damp shirt into the cab.

Again, Kahlan looked up at the trees.  Hey, palm trees.  How’re you doing?  Are you seeing this shit?

Cara reappeared, buttoning up a grayish-green dress shirt.  There was a patch on one side, but it wasn't readable from where Kahlan was standing.  “So, you’ll call me?” she asked over her shoulder.

She coughed.  “Oh, yeah.  Yeah, sure.  No problem.”

There was still no sign that Cara found Kahlan’s babbling in any way off-putting.  Totally weird.  “Cool.  See you later then?”

Kahlan nodded, still fingering the scrap of paper in her hand.  “Yeah.  Sounds good.”

…

Raina had returned from her walk along the coast, sitting on Kahlan’s towel, expression mirroring the concern on Berdine's face.  Likely, both had noticed Cara’s truck pulling away onto the dusty road.  They seem relieved to see Kahlan grinning to herself, holding on to her scrap of paper like the rarest of sea-shells.  It didn’t take them long to figure things out. 

Kahlan sighed when Berdine applauded as she drew closer.

“Hey,” she drawled, “What’cha got there, Casanova?”

Scowling at the nickname, Kahlan carefully folded the paper, removed the bookmark from her copy of _The Count of Monte Christo_ , and replaced it with Cara’s phone number, just so she wouldn’t lose it.  “Her phone number,” Kahlan finally said, with forced calm that she in no way felt.  She held the book tightly to her chest, just in case Berdine tried to snatch it again.

Instead, Berdine looked over her shoulder, a hint of concern returning to her face.  Cara’s truck was throwing up dust in this distance.  “So, why’s she leaving?”

“She got a call from work.”

Her expression brightened.  “Oh, so, she _lives_ out here?  That’s great!  _You_ live out here!  And you’re both bisexual!  You’ve got so much in common already!”

“Ugh…” Kahlan pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Are you going to call her?” Raina asked.

Great, another thing she hated doing: calling people.  She let a long breath.   “Yeah.  I mean.  I guess?”  She did promise to, and she certainly wanted to.  It was just… working up the nerve to talk to Cara had been so hard.  And now she had to do it _again_?

God, could her life suck any worse?

“Kahlan, people don’t give out their numbers to complete strangers unless they’re interested.”

True enough, she supposed, but she frowned at the book in her hands anyway.  “It could be a fake?”

Raina looked properly exasperated on her wife’s behalf.  “Has she always been this insecure?”

Berdine nodded vigorously.  “Only when it comes to dating though.”

“I’m standing right here,” Kahlan huffed.

Berdine held out her arms, which after a moment's hesitation, Kahlan accepted despite her annoyance.  She deserved a hug after putting herself out there like that, for sure.  A hug and several stiff drinks.  “This isn’t high-school, Kahlan.  She’s not going to give you a fake number and then mock you on her Myspace page the next day.”

Kahlan grumbled.  Myspace?  Please.  She wasn’t _that_ old.

“I’m so proud of you, by the way,” she added, hands on Kahlan’s shoulders when she tried to pull away.

“Yeah, thanks."

“Oh, and there’s more good news.  Raina says the shutdown just ended, so the park is supposed to reopen tomorrow.”  Berdine gestured at her wife who was waving her phone, “She got us tickets to see the sunrise on Thursday, and," her eyes went wide, "oh my god, you could totally ask your new friend to come with!  Think of the romantic possibilities!”

Kahlan cringed.    It was hard to reconcile that ever present look of amusement on Cara’s face with standing shoulder to shoulder as the sun rose over a sea of clouds.

Romantic, sure, but wouldn’t she get bored?

Granted, Kahlan didn't really know.  She hardly knew anything about Cara at all.

Then it finally hit her with full force.  She’d just walked up to a random insanely beautiful woman and gotten her number, all in less than fifteen minutes.  Holy shit.

Ho-ly _shit_.

She looked at the little scrap of paper peeking out from her book and started to grin like an idiot.

Berdine and Raina shared a look.  “You alright, Kahlan?”

She nodded vigorously, clutching the book to her chest.

When Kahlan looked up again she found both her friends smiling softly at her.  This was probably the happiest they'd seen her since they'd been reunited in Honolulu many long months ago.  “Berdine?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh… could you text me those pictures?”

**Author's Note:**

> Might add a second, and probably final, chapter to this someday, but for now it’s a one shot :)


End file.
